It Starts With Goodbye
by Anya2
Summary: Dean would do anything to make Sam happy but what would Sam let him give up? How far can you push brotherly love before you have to be selfish for your own sake? SamJess, DeanOC
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **It Starts With Goodbye  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Characters:** Dean, Sam, Jess, Bobby, OFC  
**Pairing: **Sam/Jess, Dean/OFC  
**Warnings:** None  
**Spoilers: **Set in the back end of season two (pre-finale) so anything before that is fair game.  
**Summary: **Dean would do anything to make Sam happy but what would Sam let him give up? How far can you push brotherly love before you have to be selfish for your own sake?

**Author's Note:** Please forgive the rather indulgent lack of plot in the first chapter. It's more of a set up for how people are feeling that anything.

* * *

**Part One**

Dust. If you had asked Sam to name one thing that he associated with Bobby's place, it would have been dust.

And cars too. Dust and cars was what the place was.

Dozens of old cars littering the yard, motor oil staining the ground and the smell of fuel hanging heavy in the air. It was almost choking to him although Dean seemed to thrive off of it.

And then there was the dust which seemed to get everywhere and coat everything including themselves in a fine brown layer. It made Sam uncomfortable. It wasn't like he was prissy or anything; they didn't exactly stay in the Ritz every night and he'd lost count of the number of times when necessity had meant that they'd roughed it in the car for days, but he couldn't say he enjoyed the feeling of being constantly unclean. The only rest bite he got was in the shower and even that only lasted until Dean rattled on the bathroom door, threatening to kick his ass if he used up all the hot water.

Dean clearly wasn't so bothered by the conditions; in fact he seemed positively at home in them. He just laughed when Sam complained, saying that it was because little Sammy was a 'nice boy' college student who wasn't used to real graft.

Sam was pretty sure that had they had some semblance of a 'normal' life his brother would have ended up reconditioning classic cars or something, further proof if any were needed that Dean really was his father's son.

Despite it being a complete pain in the ass on occasion and even though it had cost them way too much in time and money over the years, Dean had always loved that damn Impala ever since they were kids. As time had passed that had developed into a more general love for any car that was as big as an aircraft carrier, had steering that weighed near half a ton and which guzzled fuel like it was going out of fashion. Dad had pretty much felt the same way. That was apparently why he'd brought the Impala in the first place even if their mom had not been convinced that it was really the ideal family car. She'd seemingly put up with it for John's sake but she'd never actually been a fan. Sam couldn't see the fascination either personally. Sure he was fond of it but that was because of some of the memories it evoked – after all it had pretty much his most constant home as a kid – not because of the engineering. He simply couldn't get as enthusiastic about it as a machine as Dean could. His brother really did treat it like some kind of precious piece of art or something. In fact Sam actually wasn't entirely convinced that when Dean had said they needed to stop off at Bobby's for a few days because the Impala had to have a service, that he wasn't really doing it for the pleasure of it rather than the practical need. Just an oil change and brake pads he'd said but even Sam knew enough to realise that that shouldn't take someone as competent as Dean three days and it made him wonder if his brother had bent the truth a bit. Or had lied out of his ass as Dean would likely put it.

Maybe he just needed a break and Sam could sympathise with that. Being constantly on the road made you weary after a while. Travelling from one place to the next, meeting too many new people whilst always pretending to be someone that you weren't got you down at times. Maybe even Dean with all his fierce loyalty to the mission was starting to feel like they'd spent too long at this; doing the job in question, sometimes saving people, sometimes not, before moving on and leaving behind those they might have grown to like. Perhaps this life was finally taking its toll on him in the same way it had Sam, ultimately causing him to make a break for freedom six years ago. Not that Dean would ever contemplate such a thing of course. And whilst Sam was more at ease with his way of life now than he had been back then, he would be lying if he said he wasn't in need of a time out too. So in truth he was pretty happy for Dean to take a couple of days off. He was glad to stop moving for once, glad to give himself a chance to clear his mind of demons, spirits, hunting and death for a short while. It helped keep them grounded too. After all they needed to remember that there was a life outside their own weird and dangerous one if they were ever going to have a chance of someday living it like most of the rest of the world. That had long been a wish of Sam's and he was beginning to see that maybe Dean wanted it too.

Sam just hoped that this stop off wasn't another poorly disguised attempt to convince him to bail out. They came much fewer and farther between now than they had done when Dean had first told him about what their dad had said and then strongly suggested that they just get the hell out of Dodge. He still tried occasionally though. Sam could appreciate the gesture but he'd already run away from this life once and it hadn't worked. Jess had died because of it. This time he wasn't giving up until it was over, whatever 'over' entailed.

As had become habit in the last couple of days, Sam had spent the morning looking through some of Bobby's more archaic books and journals, just reading up on whatever looked interesting. The guy really did have a veritable library of the weird and paranormal and you never knew when some little piece of knowledge would come in handy. Or save your life. Dean had been out bright and early as usual, covered with grease and oil within minutes of walking up to the car as though he somehow magnetically attracted the stuff. Sam was sure he wasn't doing anything more than tinkering now but he let him continue all the same. Every few hours he'd go out and ask him how it was going and whether he was finished yet. Dean's answer was always the same. Nearly. It would be finished tomorrow. But it seemed as though it was the type of tomorrow that was never going to come and Sam had already decided to indulge Dean for another forty eight hours at most before he called him on it and insisted that they moved on. They couldn't hide here forever. They had work to do.

Deciding that it was time for his morning visit, Sam headed out onto the porch but drew to a slow stop when he looked across the yard.

It was a bit odd to see Dean on the brink of being really happy with a girl. He'd always put up such a front of brutal indifference about women that Sam had almost wondered if it was possible. He knew enough psychology to understand that it was partly a defence mechanism, that Dean was so afraid of letting himself or worse someone else get hurt that he simplified his encounters down to one night flings and fun times, always choosing the girls he knew were instantly disposable. Certainly never going within one hundred yards of someone he might form an attachment to. Perhaps that was why he'd been so angry with Isabel when he first met her. Angry with himself too. She was a girl he could fall for and as such he had tried to keep her away and so had hated it when his own sense of what was right had forced her into their lives.

Like Sam, Isabel's mother had died when she was six months old and she had since developed some psychic abilities. Unlike the Winchester's though her family were not new to the idea of demons and spirits although whether that had anything to do with why she was targeted, Izzy wasn't sure. Her grandmother had apparently been the only survivor of a vampire attack on her family when she'd been a girl and she'd been in the game so to speak ever since. Her sons had become hunters, trained how to kill all manner of evils as soon as they were old enough to know one end of a gun from another. Grace Hedley had been dead over a year when Sam and Dean had first met her granddaughter but Sam had always wondered about the woman; if it was revenge or a sense of duty that had made her enforce such a future on her own family. He certainly didn't think it was for their own protection; theirs was hardly the safest of lives. Either way she was very well respected. The occult shop she had set up was a haven for hunters from five adjoining states and apparently you could always go to Ma Hedley's if you were in trouble or needed supplies.

Izzy had been working in that shop when they'd first met her. In fact she'd been made the owner in her grandmother's will, much to her own apparent surprise. She had confessed to Sam that she didn't see it as an act of generosity however. She in fact firmly believed that her grandmother had left it to her meant as a millstone that she couldn't shake. She suspected that Grace had known that Izzy respected her too much to allow anything to happen to her beloved shop and so by giving it to her had tied her to it. Sam had suggested that perhaps her grandmother had just tried to keep her safe, not wanting her to become a hunter like her father and uncle. Izzy had dismissed that though; the idea of hunting had never crossed her mind and it wasn't a life she wanted to lead. No, she had a horrible suspicion that her grandmother knew something that she had never told her, something that meant that either her granddaughter was in danger or that those around her would be. It certainly tied in with the fact that in the last year or so she'd found herself able to do things she couldn't before. She firmly believed that Grace Hedley had trapped her, not wanting to inflict whatever she brought with her on an unprepared world. It angered her to think she had been so kept in the dark.

Sam hadn't quite brought it. Yes he knew well enough that the children the demon had chosen could be dangerous but Izzy was only empathic. She could sense the presence of demons and spirits, could feel the emotions their deeds left behind and frankly he didn't see how that could hurt anyone at all. There was clearly a lack of trust in the Hedley family, a river of paranoia running right through it that was well embedded from years of tragedy and ill feeling. Grace Hedley had married a hunter and he had been killed when her boys weren't even in their teens. Tom Hedley, Izzy's uncle, had left home to hunt at eighteen and hadn't returned since although they'd heard rumours of his deeds across the width and breadth of the country. Jack Hedley, Izzy's father was rarely at home and it had been the way since his second wife had died. Katherine Hedley, Izzy's half sister had gone all the way across the country to college and had made it very clear that she wanted nothing more to do with her cursed family. Apparently she and Izzy hadn't been close in years and so Izzy respected her wishes.

The only 'normal', calm presence in the place was Rhema, orphaned as a girl and taken in by Grace to work in the shop she had been there ever since, becoming fiercely loyal to the family over the years. She seemed to have remained detached from all the drama around her somehow, holding a composure that at once made you feel both relaxed and uncomfortable, as though you were under scrutiny. She hadn't liked Sam or Dean very much, maybe somehow realising that they'd be the cause of Izzy's departure. Sam also had reason to suspect that Rhema was a practitioner of hoodoo but he'd said nothing in case it somehow offended.

It had been Sam who had been the first to suggest that maybe Izzy should come with them for a while even though he knew deep down that Dean wouldn't like it. But Sam had had a vision about her and she'd consequently helped them track down a rather nasty spirit and save the young girl whose fear it was feeding off of. She could be really useful he reasoned. Dean had completely shot down the idea though, saying that they needed no one else and that they were doing fine with just the two of them. Even when Sam had been totally honest and had admitted that he liked having someone else around that really knew what he was going through and that, quite frankly, he thought it was good they had an outsider to stop them getting too lost in their own insular world, Dean would not relent. So when he had come back on the morning they were supposed to be leaving and had said that they had to pick her up because she was coming with them, it had been more than a bit of a surprise.

It took him months to extract the truth from Dean. Whenever he asked him Dean just snapped back some evasive, irritated answer that told him nothing except for the fact that Dean didn't want to talk about it. Eventually though Sam's questions had finally worn him down. Dean apparently had met Izzy's father that last night before they left and he was a man best described as cold and harsh and dead inside. And a man who, according to Dean, was planning on killing his daughter. He'd admitted that he'd already killed his second wife believing, but crucially not knowing for certain, that she'd been infected with vampire blood and so Dean had had no doubt of the validity of his threat. If he ever thought she was going to be a danger to anyone Jack would put a bullet in Isabel's head, simple as that. Dean had said the guy was clearly so disturbed, so much another Gordon Walker, that the slightest provocation would have made him do it and he couldn't just leave her behind knowing what might happen.

Sam had understood that. He had understood too that in Dean's head he was probably scared that Jack Hedley was his future, some cold, emotionless killer who cared no more for his family than any other body on the street. Scared that he too would be forced to contemplate killing his own flesh and blood for the greater good. And in Dean's mind if he could help Izzy, if it was possible to stop her dying, then maybe he could help Sam too. So despite Dean not really wanting her there he had brought her along all the same, hoping to save both her and himself.

What Sam didn't really understand was why Izzy had agreed to join them. She and Dean hadn't exactly gotten off on the best foot and she had her shop to think about, even if she didn't exactly enjoy working there. In the end she'd admitted to him that whilst she didn't have all the facts, she knew enough to realise that something was going on around them and that she wanted a hand in her own destiny whatever the outcome. Sam respected that, feeling much the same way. It just wasn't like her to sit idly by and let things happen.

Except it seemed for now. Across the sun baked yard he watched as Dean moved about the car, working whilst Izzy just hung around, having nothing really better to do. She'd already used the time to phone Rhema and check up on both her and the shop. She didn't want to keep calling however or Rhema was bound to think something was wrong. She'd also been helping Sam with going through the books but apparently there was only so long she could sit in the cluttered room reading before she went a bit stir crazy.

Sam smiled slightly as he watched Dean carefully manoeuvre her out the way with his hands on her hips, allowing him to walk around the near side of the car. Izzy spoke up in protest showing him the grimy marks his fingers had left on the skin between her low jeans and top. Dean grinned cockily, kissing her quickly in appeasement as her walked back passed her again, making sure to leave more marks on her flesh as he held her waist.

Izzy was quick though and wouldn't let him get away with such cheek. She stopped him moving off by grabbing a handful of t-shirt, proceeding to use it to wipe her skin clean whist he watched carefully. He waited until she was completely finished before he ran a finger just above the top of her jeans, leaving a dark mark low on her belly. She went to whack him in the shoulder but he grabbed her, lifting her easily to sit on the hood of the car, pulling her tight to him so he could kiss her properly. Sam was about to make a hasty retreat out of there in case this led to something he really didn't want to witness when the kiss cooled and with a few light touches to his lips she pushed Dean away, enjoying the sun as he got back to work.

Sam so rarely saw them like this. This was easy and happy, simple affection showing that they cared. Half the time you'd never even know they were together at all, hunting not really leaving much room for normal dating stuff beyond the odd stolen moment. Most of the time they didn't even bother with their own motel room, Dean reasoning that it was stupid to spend more than necessary on their fraudulent credit cards and that he could only earn so much in poker games without risking starting a fight. Sam was both happy and sad for Dean. He remembered what it was like to be in love with a girl, how the stupidest little things about her could make you smile and how great it felt to just be with her no matter what you were doing. He remembered how at ease it could make you feel with your life, how knowing that you had someone could make you feel better even when everything else around you was going to hell, literally or figuratively in their case.

Dean had really fallen for her, that much was obvious even if he couldn't get passed a long built in inability to say things like that out loud. He was such a closed book most of the time – he joked and jested and pretended to be friends with people but so few really knew him. Dad certainly hadn't, not as well as he probably thought. Sam himself sometimes couldn't even understand what was going on his head and he figured that he knew his brother better than anyone did. Sam would bet that even Izzy didn't know much more than Dean was willing to offer but somehow she at least seemed to make him want to offer it. Dean felt at home with her and that was big thing for a guy who had never really had one that he could remember.

And why shouldn't he like her - Izzy was a great girl. She was pretty and smart and strong and put up with all Dean's crap with more good humour than he deserved. But whilst the demon was still out there, whilst the threat of an unknown future still hung over them, he knew that Dean could never really be with her in the way that he wished. Moments like the one Sam had just witnessed were all they really had and he knew from experience that it wasn't enough.

He wanted to see them do everything that normal couples did. He wanted to see them get married and have kids and be happy. He wanted to see Dean scratch his head in pained confusion as he tried to pick out just the right ring, biting Sam's head off every time he tried to give advice just to take his frustrations out on someone. He wanted to be there to calm Dean down as they stood at the church, waiting for her to show, Dean convinced she was going to bail on him even though Sam knew that wouldn't happen. He wanted to see Dean freak when he found out that he was going to be a father, spending nine months on tenterhooks, finding that dealing with a pregnant woman full of volatile emotions was possibly the most dangerous thing he'd ever face. He wanted to be there to see his hard headed big brother turn to gooey mush when he met his first born, knowing Dean was good with kids and that he would be a natural dad. He wanted to see Dean laugh when he realised his brother now really was Uncle Sam, continuing the joke for months and years even though it was lame. He wanted to be around to see Dean holler enthusiastic support at his son's baseball matches and try but fail to put his foot down when his daughter went out in something he thought a little too short for his baby girl. More than anything Sam just wanted to help to make all that happen. It may be a cliché, it may be a dream but it didn't mean they couldn't have it. Even if it meant killing every damn demon in existence to get there. It was a goal he liked to focus on when things were particularly rough.

Deep down though he missed it himself too; having someone, being in a relationship. He'd loved Jessica, had intended to marry her, and it had taken a long time to get over her loss or to ever even contemplate allowing himself to feel that way about anyone again. Now he was about ready to start anew. He realised that every time he met a nice girl and momentarily thought about asking her for coffee before he remembered who he was and the life he lived. Part of him wished that he could take things with Sarah further, loving that small rush of warmth he got every time he thought about her, but he couldn't in good conscious drag her into this no matter how much he needed someone. Even if that need was becoming a little desperate of late, gnawing at him ever more noticeably.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to be. Dean should be flitting from girl to girl, never settling down, never getting serious with any of them whilst Sam had the steady girlfriend and the stable relationship. It somehow didn't seem right that he was on his own whilst Dean was falling in love. As guilty as it made him feel it sometimes cut deep to see Dean and Izzy together. Just occasionally he wished that they weren't simply so he wouldn't have to see it anymore and feel that potent mixture of jealously and loneliness. He knew that was a cruel and unreasonable thing to wish but he couldn't help it.

It wasn't fair.

But there again he was already well aware that life in general wasn't.

So all he could do was force himself to concentrate on the part that was happy for his brother and ignore the voice that kept telling him how tired he was of being alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Sam had had no clear idea of what Bobby actually did until he spent a few days in the man's house. Sure, he already knew that the older man did some hunting but that was only local area stuff and he was always around whenever they dropped by or called. Mainly it seemed that he was the mission man, the go to guy. If you needed stuff for a hunt you went to Bobby. In return he kept his ear to the ground and if he heard of something in your area he called you up and told you to get your ass over there and deal with it. It was an arrangement that seemed to suit all.

On their fourth night there he'd come home around dinner time, bring with him a couple of pizzas since the only working fridge in the house was currently filled with chilled sheep parts which a guy in Alabama was coming to pick up in couple of days. Apparently he needed them for an abacua ritual designed to stop a vengeance demon. Sam didn't really want to know any more details than that.

"Heard something today," Bobby said simply, much, much later in the evening once they'd eaten and talked a lot about nothing in particular, "Thought you kids might be interested."

Sam wondered how at twenty seven Dean felt about being called a 'kid' but by the look of grin on his face he didn't seem too bothered. Bobby was like an uncle or something to them and Dean always made exceptions for family.

"You trying to get rid of us, Bobby?" he asked with a slight chuckle.

The older man shot him a droll look, "With you using all my spare car parts, eating all my food and drinking all my beer, what do you think?"

Dean's grin widened slightly but he said nothing, saluting Bobby with a beer bottle. Fair enough.

"It might be nothing," Bobby continued, serious once more, "And usually I wouldn't bother you guys with such stuff but..."

He paused with a frown as if trying to think of the right way of putting it, obviously not entirely comfortable with what he had to say.

"But...?" Izzy prompted perhaps too harshly. Patience wasn't always a virtue though and she'd never been one for beating around the bush. She believed that if you had something important to say you should just say it. Hesitancy made her nervous. Sam could understand that feeling. He didn't like Bobby's tone either – it just wasn't like him.

"I came by this story today," Bobby said with a curt nod, obviously agreeing that he should just get the hell on with it, "Been in the more obscure papers if you catch my drift. Young girl thinks she's being stalked by a ghost. She's part of her college's paranormal society so usually I'd say it was a case of an over active imagination but I thought you might want to check this one out yourselves."

Dean frowned over the top of his beer bottle. It wasn't like Bobby to be so evasive. He was always blunt and forthright with his words. That was part of the reason why he and Dean got on so well.

"Why would we wanna do that?" he asked suspiciously, "Sounds like a load of bull to me."

"Because the girl's at Stanford," Bobby explained with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head as though he didn't really wish to burden them with this but didn't see that he had any choice, "The haunting activity only started a few months ago and I checked; there's only been one death there in recent years."

A cold shiver ran through Sam's blood like poison threatening to stop his heart dead.

"Jessica," he confirmed quietly when no one else dared to do it.

Bobby nodded in confirmation and then seemed to feel suddenly bad, needing to reassure Sam.

"As I said it's probably nothing but I thought you'd want to know."

Sam sat there in silence for a long moment, feeling all eyes on him; Bobby with apology, Dean with concern and Izzy with sympathy. Sam ignored them all, knowing that they were just waiting to see how he would react, wondering if this was the calm before the storm. Truth was he felt nothing. He was numbed. He'd never even considered the possibility that Jessica might end up that way or that the manner of her death would leave her unable to move on and he wasn't prepared to consider it now. True it had seemed to have happened to his mom but that didn't mean anything though. She'd been the exception rather than the rule. There had been a fair few other women killed in the same manner and as far as he knew none of them had failed to cross over. Why should Jessica have been any different?

No, he convinced himself, it wasn't her. It couldn't be. No logical reason, it just couldn't. But still he had to know for sure, the gnawing doubt already inside him convincing him that he wouldn't get a moment's piece until he did. Besides, either way it was another job that needing doing. They'd be wrong to ignore it completely. They were supposed to be professionals and this was a job, nothing more.

"We'd better leave in the morning," he said coolly, giving nothing away.

Dean nodded, a little wary, obviously not at all comfortable with Sam's reaction.

"Sure."

Sam only managed a few more moments under scrutiny before he stood and left the room, needing to be alone.

No one followed him.

* * *

Dean was mightily relieved when they finally pulled up in the visitor's car park of Stanford University, the sound of slamming doors punctuating their arrival. The journey had been too long and too quiet and he he'd hated every single moment of it. No one had spoken and playing his music at full volume in order to drown out the silence had seemed somehow disrespectful and so he'd resisted the urge.

Sam didn't want to talk about what was going on, preferring to think it through in private. Izzy seemed to feel like it wasn't her place to mention it and so she had said very little throughout the whole drive. Dean himself had been living on tenterhooks ever since Bobby had told them about the problem, old guilt dragged up once more, worried it would bring out some painful truths.

He did sometimes wonder if Sam had blamed him for what had happened, even if it was just for a short while. Had Sam ever believed that if Dean hadn't persuaded him to come looking for their dad then the demon wouldn't have gotten his opportunity and Jessica would still be alive? Dean had never asked, talking about stuff like that not really being his thing. Quite frankly he didn't want to know the truth either in case it wasn't what he wanted to hear. He couldn't help but wonder though if that odd look he sometimes saw in Sam's eyes was censure. If sometimes when he looked at Dean he thought 'you caused this', even subconsciously. Rationally there was nothing either of them could have done, no way they could have known. Still, Dean couldn't help but occasionally believe that he'd essentially ruined his brother's happiness for the sake of his own. That he'd selfishly tried to take Sam away from what he'd wanted because he himself couldn't cope with having no family around to look out for. And he couldn't deny that it had been successful.

Dean had a good memory for roads and even though he'd only been to the campus twice he knew how to drive round without passing Sam's old dorm building. He didn't think that that would be a good idea right now even though they had already returned to Stanford once before and Sam had seemed at ease with the whole thing. The circumstances this time were a pretty different though.

The girl in the report Bobby had read, Wendy Vandean, was a biology student and so on Sam's directions they'd headed straight to the science block, splitting up to ask around. As far as the students they spoke to were concerned, they were journalists interested in hearing more of Wendy's story. Dean met with the most success, one guy saying that he couldn't believe how much attention she was getting over her crazy story and then going on to tell him when Dean asked that they would find her in her room over at Kardon Hall. Apparently she'd barely left there in days, too afraid to even go to classes. The guy said that her professor was trying to organise some kind of counselling for her so that she didn't flunk out. He himself thought a padded cell would be more useful.

Sam said that he knew where Kardon was and so they followed him over there on foot. Upon arriving Izzy had reasoned that maybe it was a good idea if she went in alone to talk to the girl – Wendy was obviously in a state and the boys wouldn't help improve that. Sam was too close to this to be entirely objective and Dean? Well he wasn't exactly tactful. His bull in a china shop approach probably would hinder more than help here. He'd looked a bit affronted at that but couldn't really argue with it.

A long twenty minutes after she'd entered the building and Dean was already going out of his mind with boredom and trying Sam's every last shred of patience.

He drummed the rhythm of ACDC's TNT on any available surface until Sam told him to stop it.

He took his knife out his jacket pocket, flipping it around in his hand, playing the game where if you missed you caught the blade rather than the handle until Sam told him firmly to put it away before someone saw him and called security.

He then decided that the can sitting on the fence across the street was just asking to be knocked off and so he tossed stones at it, annoyed and a bit embarrassed by his inability to get it in the first dozen throws. Eventually he gave up when he knocked off a flowerpot instead which smashed on the floor, causing Sam to glare at him.

Three notes in to trying to whistle 'Enter Sandman' badly, Sam finally threw up his hands in defeat and wandered off, muttering under his breath. Dean let him go, realising that he probably needed some time alone.

Another twenty later minutes Izzy thankfully reappeared, jogging across the street towards him.

"So?" he asked, getting straight down to business, grateful to finally be doing something again.

"It took some persuading," Izzy explained, looking a bit drained, "Quite a lot of persuading actually since she's a pretty big mess right now - but I finally convinced her that we can help her and she's going to show us where she first encountered this thing."

Dean's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"So she's not a wackjob then?"

"Excuse me?" Izzy asked steadily, blinking at him.

"You know," Dean said, reeling off his explanation a little too easily, "A taco short of a combination plate? An olive short of a pizza? Five cans short of a six pack? A few fries short of a happy meal? Out to lunch? Basket case?"

She at frowned him, "Why are all your euphemisms related to food?"

He grinned broadly, "One track mind. Well?"

Izzy shrugged light and noncommittal.

"She believes it's all real."

"And do you believe what she believes is real is actually real?"

Even he frowned momentarily at that. It had definitely made more sense in his head.

"I guess we'll find out later tonight."

He nodded momentarily before his brain processed that and he realised what she was actually saying. His eye widened a little.

"Wait, she is not coming with us."

It was an order not a question.

"We need her to show us precisely where it happened," Izzy reasoned, a bit defensive, obviously having already known that he wouldn't like the idea, "So yeah she is."

Dean couldn't argue with logic. Didn't mean he had to like it though.

"Great," he replied with a roll of his eyes, "That's all we need. Amateur hour with the civilians. I swear if she tries to film anything or bring her paranormal geeks with her I'll-"

Izzy held her hand up to stop him.

"Dean, I can't tell for certain if what she said happened was real but the girl is terrified. I don't think she's playing this for kicks."

He still wasn't convinced but didn't see that they had much choice, not if they wanted to get on with this job and get out of here. For Sam's sake that was exactly what he intended to do as quickly as possible.

"Well let's just hope she doesn't screw up," he said grouchily, folding his arms.

Izzy sighed a little, knowing that she was never going to persuade him to be happy about the situation and, seeing his current tolerance as the best outcome, she changed the subject.

"Where's Sam?"

They found him two streets down, sitting on a small area of grass, pulling blades up and tearing them to strips with his long fingers whilst resolutely not looking up at the window that used to be his and Jessica's bedroom. There were new curtains hanging there now, new knickknacks on the window sill, new plants being lovingly cared for. New people living there.

Izzy wandered back to the car as Dean went up to him, leaving them to it. Silently Dean held out his hand and after a moment Sam took it, nodding gratefully as Dean pulled him to his feet.

"It's just so weird, you know?" Sam said, looking over his brother's shoulder to the room behind him, somehow able to do so when he had Dean there as a physical barrier between him and the building, "I didn't even think this could happen."

He sighed, shaking his head and running his fingers back through messy hair.

"I should have been smarter at the time, Dean. I could have stopped this back then. She doesn't...didn't deserve to go through this too."

He could sympathise with Sam's reasoning but the kid was being too hard on himself. For start there was little he could have done; the fire had consumed her completely and there was no body for them to salt and burn to try and stop this. Besides, Dean would certainly not have let him do it – Sam had been cut up enough about what had happened without having to go through that ritual too. At the time all Dean could think was that the best thing to do was to get his little brother the hell out of there and he stood by that decision even now.

"Hey man," he reassured, finding it a bit weird that he needed to be the one who looked on the bright side for once rather than the one pointing out the grim reality, "We don't even know it's her okay? It's probably not. Ghosts can latch on to anywhere that was important in their lives not just where they died and there are thousands of people who've come through here and died since. What are the chances that it's her, huh?"

His words were easy and dismissive, trying to convince Sam that he was making a bigger deal out of this than necessary, worrying where he didn't need to. Sam obviously didn't buy it.

"But it could be."

"Don't worry," Dean said resolutely, "It's not."

Sam knew that his certainty was a lie but he said nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

Even the most normal and mundane building could look creepy in the dark of night, particularly when it was a building that was ordinarily so full of life during the day. Deserted and silent, such places never felt right and they could make even the hardiest of souls feel uneasy. Izzy had gotten used to those feelings over time but it didn't mean that she liked them.

As Dean picked the lock, disabled the alarm and opened the door for them to enter, she glanced across at Sam, wondering what it must be like for him to walk down familiar paths and through familiar buildings, all seeming like they belonged to a different him in a different world. Poor guy was clearly going through it and the sooner they got out of here the better. She just hoped that it turned out that the spirit wasn't Jessica after all. Some people would probably think that spirits were good things, that it meant you hadn't really lost someone you loved after all. But she knew better. Spirits were trapped, afraid and unhappy and she wouldn't wish that on anyone she cared about. She was pretty certain that Sam felt the same way.

Wendy had been reluctant to enter the building at first and that hadn't helped Dean's distain for her. After some gentle prodding on Izzy's part and something akin to an interrogation on Dean's, Wendy had admitted that she and her friends had been playing with Ouija boards and the like in a classroom on the third floor. Or as Dean bluntly put it, being dumbasses and messing with shit they didn't understand. She should have expected some sort of trouble he'd pointed out and she'd brought this on herself by being an idiot. Izzy knew that it wasn't as if he was irritated enough by the circumstances to refuse to help the girl. That just wasn't in his nature. But he would certain bitch about it plenty so that she was clear that it was all her fault and that she was damn lucky they'd come along.

"You said you've been hearing voices," Izzy prompted as they walked, trying to focus the jittery girl.

Wendy nodded, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears as her eyes darted from side to side, obviously expecting something to jump out at her at any moment.

"Yeah," she said, her voice dry and cracked, "Whenever I'm in class. At first I thought it was some of the others messing around but I was here late last week, just me, working on a report and I kept hearing it."

"What about the voice? What do you hear?"

"It's a woman. She keeps saying the same thing."

When no other information was forthcoming Izzy was forced to ask the obvious question, just about keeping her patience.

"And what's that?"

"Help. She was asking for help."

Dean looked at a suddenly much tenser Sam.

"Doesn't mean it's her," he reminded him firmly. He needed Sam focused right now. He didn't need that big brain of his running through horrible possibilities and guilt ridden scenarios.

"Doesn't mean it's who?" Wendy asked with a curious frown, her fear momentarily forgotten in the face of something that must have sounded rather suspicious to her.

Izzy hurriedly continued, sure that neither brother would appreciate having to explain.

"Why do you think she needs help?"

"I don't know," Wendy shrugged, looking at Izzy as though she couldn't understand why she was asking her, "I guess because she's trapped here or something."

"And why do you think she's asked you and not the others you were with?"

"I don't know," Wendy repeated again.

"Oh yeah", Dean said scornfully, "You're a real font of information."

Izzy glared him into silence. To be honest she could understand his frustration and wasn't much fonder of the girl than he was, but they needed her for now. Years of growing up in a shop had taught her how to play nice when necessary.

"Wendy, where did you first encounter the spirit?"

That was Sam, speaking up at last, his tone even and professional. Izzy guessed that was his way of getting through it – treat it like any other job, get it done and get the hell out of there.

"Through here actually," Wendy replied, finally leading them to a nondescript class room after they'd gone up several flights of stairs, "We were here when we did it. We didn't think it was real, you know. We'd used it a dozen times before and nothing had happened."

She was shaking her head as though she couldn't quite believe it was happening. She was understandably nervous but Dean remained unsympathetic.

"Yeah life's a bitch like that," he pointed out tersely.

People like her from paranormal societies and the like were a pet hate of his. None of them had any real clue about what they were doing. Most thought it was some kind of game and many wouldn't know what a ghost was if one came up and bit them on the ass. Not that ghosts usually did that of course but he'd seen weirder stuff. On the rare occasion that they actually did encounter something real they always freaked and it was left to guys like him to come and bail them out. Like he didn't already have enough to do. Like weren't already enough nasty things out there without dumbasses calling in extra ones.

No, all in all, not his favourite bunch of people.

"The Ouija board must have attracted a stray spirit, right?" Izzy pointed out, looking at Sam for confirmation, "I mean no one actually died in here as far as we know so, it must just be a random latch on. An opportunist trying to get through."

"Yeah, maybe..." he said evasively, obviously not convinced by her very clear attempt to persuade him that this ghost could be just about anyone.

Dean turned to Izzy, all business, "Anything?"

She frowned a little as she tried to concentrate. It was hard to describe what she felt when she felt it. Sometimes they were emotions, usually negative ones; anger, fear, sadness, they were the most common. If it was a demon she often felt it like a disturbance inside her, an overwhelming sense that something was just wrong. Sometimes though all she felt was a presence, a certainty that they were not alone. Now she could feel a hint of that, like eyes watching her in the darkness but it was fleeting and hard to pinpoint.

"I'm not sure. I think there's something but...it's really confused," she said describing it best she could.

"Maybe it's in another class room nearby," Sam suggested, as ever thinking ahead, "We should go check them out."

"Okay," Dean agreed with a nod, "I'll stay here and do a scan with the EMF meter, see if there's anything Radar here missed."

"Hey," Izzy admonished slightly, both at the name and the mild slight but he just smiled at her in an annoying self assured manner, knowing that she wasn't really cross.

As Dean quickly picked the lock of and then entered the adjoining office, scanner at the ready, Izzy and Sam walked towards the door. Izzy beckoned Wendy to follow them, deciding that leaving her with Dean wasn't really such a good idea else they might just end up with another ghost to deal with.

They were within yards of the door when it slammed firmly shut. She shared a concerned look with Sam.

"Trouble?"Dean asked immediately coming out of the office again, alerted by the noise.

"Probably," Izzy admitted.

"Definitely," Sam concluded as he tried the door, twisting the handle and pulling with all his might yet finding it wouldn't budge.

"What's happening?" Wendy asked, her voice shaking slightly with increasing nerves.

"Just stay with me, okay" Izzy ordered gently, pushing the other woman slightly behind her, getting her out of her way as much as shielding her whilst she and the Winchester boys looked cautiously around the room.

A violent buzzing emanated from the EMF meter in Dean's hand and he held it up, looking a little wide eyed at the sudden spike in the reading.

"Oh this is not good..." he muttered apprehensively.

Sam cried out in pain, cursing loudly as he pulled his hand sharply back from the door handle he had still been holding, swinging it in the air. Izzy heard the slight hissing of suddenly hot flesh and knew what had happened – the energy being poured into the door handle had rapidly heated it, burning Sam's unfortunately placed hand in the process.

Sam tucked his hand under his arm, grimacing slightly as he took a few steps towards Dean and looked at the meter himself.

"No," he agreed, "Not good."

Izzy had to agree with that conclusion too when she just about managed to duck as one of the small, single study tables came suddenly and violently flying in her general direction. Another soon followed and Izzy reached up and pulled a stunned Wendy down by a handful of jumper moments before she was floored by it. She quickly turned a larger table on its side and sheltered behind it, half dragging Wendy to relative safety.

Sam and Dean hit the deck too as more furniture flew sharply across the room.

The feeling Izzy had felt before was magnified tenfold now. There was definitely something here and it was not in the best of moods. She cautiously glanced around the edge of the table, but could see nothing, certainly no angry ghost bearing down on them which they could fire at. That made things a bit awkward really. Fighting a simple presence was not easy.

"We have to get out of here!" she called across to the boys, having to shout to be heard over the sound of smashing furniture.

"No shit!" Dean hollered back, clearly not impressed by her deductive skills as a very large book flew past his ear.

"This thing's not angry," Izzy explained hurriedly, trying to get her point across, "It's confused. It doesn't know what it's doing and it's not going to stop."

"Right!"

A confused spirit may not be trying to hurt them but it was just as capable of doing so as an angry one. In fact they were sometimes even more dangerous as they panicked, not knowing what they were doing and things got out of control. Sitting there and just hoping that it didn't hit you with something was not the best course of action.

Dean clambered his way along the floor to his dropped bag, keeping as low as possible as he hurriedly unzipped it and looked inside for something he could use to get the doors open.

Suddenly there was some kind of a shock wave, intense enough to make Izzy feel like her head was momentarily about to explode. Fortunately the only thing that actually did were the windows which imploded as the wave travelled along them, raining glass on them as they were all forced to hunker down on the floor for protection. It might have actually helped them get out of there if they weren't on the third floor.

Beside her, Wendy screamed, painfully loud in her ear.

"What do we do?!" she asked, almost hysterical.

"Don't worry, we'll think of something."

Izzy knew her reassurances couldn't have been very reassuring though from the look on the other woman's face.

She turned back momentarily to see what Dean was doing, wondering if she could help, but she had barely made him out in the dark room before she felt something burning into her upper arm. She yelped with surprised pain, too shocked to stop Wendy grabbing her hand and slicing it with a small scalpel, her upper arm still feeling like it was sizzling where the other woman gripped it. Wendy held a tiny bottle in her hand and smashed it straight into Izzy's palm, the liquid seeping into the fresh cut, mixing with her blood.

"I'm so sorry," Wendy said her voice trembling with a mixture of tears, fear and guilt, "But she keeps trying to take me and I can't..."

She trailed off, shaking her head in what looked like apology.

Izzy's last thought before some strong force slammed into the back of her was _'oh my god, what have you done__'_

In truth she already knew but there was no time to do anything about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

When the windows flew in Dean's instincts immediately told him to hit the deck which he did so with practiced efficiency, his arms folding over to protect his head. When the shower of painful rain stopped he briefly glanced around to check that the others were okay. Sam and Izzy were sitting up, both shaking glass from their hair but unhurt. Wendy looked sheet white but was still alive and she should count her blessings for that given the circumstances.

He hurriedly returned to looking in his bag, knowing that they really had to get out of there, and was just wondering if salting the door might help when he heard a sudden cry of pain that he knew from unwelcome experience was Izzy. He immediately looked across, expecting to see her lying on the floor having taken a book to the face or something.

But she wasn't. She was looking at Wendy in a surprised manner. Wendy who was holding her arm in a death grip with one hand whilst holding what looked like a scalpel up in the other.

Dean was on his feet immediately, momentarily forgetting the danger around them in the face of this more pressing one whilst simultaneously trying to remind himself that Wendy was just a girl and punching her in the face wasn't on. Except of course if it turned out she was actually a demon who'd been playing them, then punching her in the face was a damn fine course of action.

He strode across the room and was almost there before he was suddenly broadsided by a table. It knocked him clean to the floor, shattering about him, leaving him momentarily winded.

As he lay there, taking a few seconds to recover, the room around him finally became still once more, the ghostly assault apparently over.

By the time he sat himself up and pushed the table debris aside, Izzy was lying on the floor not moving and Wendy's back could be seen fleeing through the now open door.

"Sam!" he called, but Sam was already scrambling to his feet and hurrying over to Izzy rolling her onto her back and pushing his fingers firmly into the crease on her neck.

"She's okay," Sam said hurriedly, quickly finding a good pulse, "Go!"

Dean didn't need telling twice, sprinting out the door after Wendy, firmly intending to catch her and find out what the hell she was playing at.

* * *

Sam sat there utterly still for a few moments hoping more than expecting Izzy to quickly regain consciousness. He hadn't seen what had happened and had only heard her cry out but he suspected that she'd been hit on the head by something. Nothing too bad though he presumed since there wasn't any sign of injury.

When she didn't quickly open her eyes however he shrugged off his jacket, balled it up and placed it under her head. It wasn't exactly top quality first aid but he didn't know what else he could do. She didn't have an obvious wound, her pulse was strong and her breathing was steady. He'd been knocked out cold enough times himself to know it wasn't necessarily pleasant but it didn't do too much damage. He also knew however that if she didn't wake up soon they'd be forced to drive her to the local ER just in case it was serious and the thought already made him feel uncomfortable. Two guys arriving with an unconscious girl and a sketchy explanation of what had happened was bound to raise questions and it was the sort of suspicion that they should really be trying to avoid when they were wanted by the cops in various States.

"Come on, Izzy," he muttered, placing a hand on her arm, "Make this easy and wake up okay?"

Continuing to will her to save them some hassle and wake up sooner rather than later, Sam suddenly frowned when he noticed a dark trace of blood on the side of her trousers. Worried that he'd missed something serious he quickly checked her over, finally finding the injury in the unlikely place of the palm of her hand. Lifting it to his face he peered more closely at the wound. At first he thought she must have cut it on the glass from the windows, but the cut was too clean and seemed to have been caused by a blade not a jagged edge as he would have expected. Upon placing her hand carefully down again he noticed something else unusual. There were small pieces of glass lying around where her hand had been. Not necessarily strange considering that the windows had just imploded, but when he picked a couple of the pieces up he noticed that they were too thin and too curved to be part of the glazing. No, they appeared to be from a small tube or bottle. But he hadn't seen any science equipment in the room.

He was still pondering what it all meant when a light groan emanated from Izzy's lips, turning his attention back to her.

"Hey," he said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as her eyes slowly opened, "It's okay."

It seemed to take her a moment to regain focus and when she did her eyes slowly scanned the area around her, her face getting more and more worried by the second. Sam's stomach fell a little as he saw the confusion on her face. She clearly had no idea what had happened to her or even where she was. Short term memory loss was never a good sign and it meant they really should take her to the hospital and get her checked out.

He was just about to explain what had happened, to reassure her once more that all was fine and that Dean would be back in a moment, when all of a sudden she sat bolt upright, Sam springing back slightly in surprise.

"Sam?" she asked, still looking round her, unnaturally frightened, "Oh my god Sam...How did I get here? What happened?"

She looked at him, pleading for answers with both her voice and her eyes and his stomach clenched so violently that he was surprised he didn't throw up. The only thing that stopped him scrambling back in horrified denial was the fact that his whole body seemed to have paralysed at the realisation. In one heart stopping, gut wrenching moment he instantly knew. He just knew, even though it shouldn't be happening. But the signs were all there – the cut, the broken glass vial. He should have realised straight out. Should have been smarter.

A possession ritual.

And he couldn't deny that he saw it right away. Izzy never looked at him like that. It was her skin, her green eyes and her lips but everything about the way they were being used was all wrong.

Wrong for her any way but right for someone he used to know.

He swallowed hard into his suddenly painfully dry throat, feeling a sharp, cold burst of shock flying through his veins as he watched her still glancing about herself, trying to get a handle on where she was and what had happened. Normally he'd comfort her, normally he would hold her to him and tell her it was okay. Right now though it was all he could manage to not just bolt from the room.

"Jess?" he asked, quiet and pained, hoping that he'd somehow been mistaken. It was too cruel otherwise.

She immediately turned her attention back to him.

"Yeah?"

Not, 'yes, it is me', simply a 'yes, what do you want?' As far as she was concerned there was obviously no question over who she was.

"Nothing..." he said quietly, barely able to get his vocal chords to work as they seemed to freeze up along with the rest of him. It couldn't be happening, he told himself. It couldn't.

But it was. Izzy would never play such a sick joke on him and he knew from personal experience that possession was entirely possibly. There was simply no other viable explanation.

"Nothing?" Jess asked through Izzy's lips, her eyes wide and incredulous at Sam's reaction, "What do you mean 'nothing'? Seriously Sam, what is going on? How did I get in here? What happened to this place, why is it such a mess?"

It was only then that it hit him.

She didn't know.

She really didn't know.

She didn't know that she wasn't in her own body, obviously didn't know that she was dead. Oh god... What did he tell her? How could he tell her?

Thankfully it was dark enough and she was confused enough not to really have noticed that anything was amiss beyond being in trashed classroom and having no recollection of how she had got there. Sam didn't know how long though she could go without noticing that she was now several inches shorter with a slightly curvier figure and brunette hair instead of blonde. They were hardly the sort of changes you could miss in the long run.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked, his voice sounding distant even to him as he made a stab at professionalism. He lied to himself, his brain firmly stating that this was just another job.

Pulling herself together just a little bit, obviously trusting Sam implicitly to help, she frowned as she tried to remember.

"Cookies," she said after a moment of silence, the knot of her brow showing how difficult the memory was to drag up, "I made some cookies for you and left them out. I kept thinking you weren't going to get back in time for the interview..."

He'd known she'd worry.

"Anything else?"

"I went into our room," she continued slowly as though walking it through in her head, "And...oh god Sam there was someone in there...There was a man and I thought it was you for a minute and-"

Her voice caught as she obviously remembered her fear.

"And?" Sam asked hesitantly. Part of him wanted her to remember, wanted to be saved the pain of having to explain himself what had happened to her. A bigger part though realised that he didn't want to see her face if she did remember it, didn't want to witness her recalling the fear and the pain. He didn't want her to have the memory of how she'd been pinned to the ceiling, unable to scream as her blood poured from her. How the last thing she saw was his look of horror before she was engulfed in flames.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head, trying to concentrate harder but failing, the memory well and truly gone, "I don't remember anything else. Sam, what happened to me? Did he do something? How did I end up here?"

She'd calmed just a little now, the overwhelming panic gone now she was in Sam's reassuring presence but replaced by a dire need to know.

"Don't worry," he said painfully, "You're okay now."

Which was an utter lie. She was dead and inhabiting someone else's body. There wasn't much more not okay you could get. But it felt like the right thing to say. Just as it felt like the right thing to do when he pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him. It was odd but it was preferable to facing any more of her questions.

He held her like he would Izzy, how he'd comfort his friend not embrace his girlfriend. His body remembered how he had hugged Izzy like this once, how her small frame had suddenly felt very vulnerable as she sobbed uncontrollably into his chest. Dean had been seriously hurt and when she'd left his room and returned to the hospital corridor, needing a break from sitting at his side, she was still shaking hours after the incident. It had only taken a few reassuring words from Sam to break her resolve and she'd collapsed into tears. Which he hadn't liked to see but which had at least given him something to focus on rather than wondering if his brother was going to live.

His mind remembered things too though, different things, things about the way he'd once held Jess. It remembered the night he'd come home to find her in tears having gotten a phone call to say her grandmother had died. He'd held her then, curled up on their bed and she cried silently beside him, needing to grieve. When she'd kissed him, hands gliding over his body, principle had made him question her actions but she had said she simply didn't want to go to sleep on a bad memory and couldn't think of a better way of making sure that didn't happen than by being with the guy she loved.

Still at a loss, still as confused as hell over what to do, Sam was startled a little when Dean came jogging back into the room, ever so slightly out of breath.

"Lost her," he admitted grouchily, "Damn girl can run and this place is like a rabbit warren..."

He might have said more but he was distracted by the sight of Sam holding Izzy so close. He had no problem at all with them being friends, understood that they cared about each other and that Sam was utterly at ease with giving her a hug if she needed it, but he could instantly tell that something wasn't quite right. It wasn't like her to fall all over him in that way let alone his brother.

"Is she okay?" he asked with a deep frown.

Without waiting for an answer he went to crouch down beside her, to find out what was wrong with his girl. But right now she wasn't his girl, not really.

Intercepting a potentially very awkward moment, Sam released Jess and stood, blocking Dean from moving, causing his brother to frown at him in askance.

"No, she's not okay," he said quietly, trying to make his words sound meaningful without giving the game away to Jess, "We have a big problem Dean."

He looked at his brother carefully and after a moment Dean seemed to register that Sam was asking for him to tread carefully. Dean nodded in acknowledgement, still clueless to what was going on as he looked at Izzy with a deep, concerned frown.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

Sam found Dean in the motel parking lot, leaning against the hood of the Impala. There was a bottle of beer clutched in his hand but it had hardly been touched. He was just looking at, swirling the liquid around as though the small whirlpool would somehow reveal all the answers if he stared hard enough.

The sight put Sam a little on edge. It was always a bad sign when Dean couldn't even bring himself to try to drink away what was bothering him. To be fair to him though his brother had put on a good face in all of this so far. He'd understandably been pretty shocked when Sam had first explained to him what had happened but that had quickly turned to something Dean found more constructive - namely anger directed at Wendy Vandean. He was all for going and finding her and demanding that she put this right but Sam had managed to persuade him out of that one. For a start they wouldn't need her help to reverse it – they probably knew more about what she'd done than she did anyway. He also figured that the girl hadn't really meant to hurt anyone, that she was just scared and had wanted to get the spirit off her case. That didn't make Dean feel any less antagonistic towards her though and it was probably therefore a good thing that she seemed to have gone into hiding.

On the ride back to the motel Sam had sat in the back, Jess or Izzy or whoever they should be referring to her as now, close next to him. They still hadn't told her what was going on and fortunately for them she seemed to be in mild shock, happy to ask no more questions about it as long as Sam stayed nearby. Dean spent most of the journey in silence and Sam was still not ready to bring the subject up even though he knew he should. They just needed to get her somewhere quiet and a little more private was his excuse, then he would explained it all.

Sam had nodded his thanks when Dean had adjusted his rear view mirror, making fully sure that Jess couldn't see her new reflection. To be honest Sam didn't really understand how she could not have already noticed. Surely her body felt all wrong to her? But she did seem tired and still a bit out of it so maybe that was the reason. When she pressed closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder for comfort, Sam saw Dean glance back at them and Sam gave him an apologetic look. Dean's expression was blank and almost calm, not giving anything away. Sam had a strong suspicion however that he wasn't as okay with this as he made out. That was pretty much confirmed when they finally parked up at a local motel and Dean had instantly said that he was going to get a few beers and that they should go in without him. An hour later when he still hadn't turned up Sam had gone looking, having a good idea where he would be.

"Hey," he said, hands dug firmly in his pockets as he stepped up to the car.

"Hey. Beer?" Dean offered, waving one of the unopened ones in Sam's direction, as always a master at avoiding the pertinent conversation for as long as possible.

It seemed though that this was something that even he couldn't ignore.

Sam refused the offer and there was just a moment of awkward silence before Dean spoke again, unable to keep quite on the matter.

"How is she?"

He was too casual about that Sam realised and his calm and unbothered demeanour was definitely forced. He watched as Dean took a sip of his beer, his eyes scanning across the uninviting car park, gaudy neon signs and empty highway. Looking anywhere it seemed but at Sam, not wanting to give away how truly screwed up he found this whole thing.

Sam knew his question likely referred to Izzy rather than Jess but he ignored the matter for the sake of not turning this into a pointless argument.

"She's a bit out of it still," he explained, "I left her sleeping. I guess the process must have been tough."

Dean's lips curled into a wry smile around the mouth of his beer bottle.

"Yeah coming back from the dead has gotta be hard work."

Again Sam just let it go.

"Have you told her?" Dean asked after a moment's silence although there was something in the tone of his voice that suggested that he already knew the answer.

"No," Sam confirmed, "Thought I'd better wait until she was a bit more with it. We don't want her confused and running scared."

"No," Dean agreed, "We kind of need that body back."

That wasn't entirely true. 'We' didn't need it at all. Izzy did and Dean did. Dean wanted his girlfriend back and that would mean Sam would lose his for good. He knew it was stupid, knew that Izzy had to have priority and that Jess had to move on, but Sam couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of resentment. A tiny bit of his brain was having a tantrum, screaming at the top of its lungs that it wasn't fair. Jess had been too young, she had a future ahead of her and that he been taken brutally away. It wasn't right and it really wasn't fair. But there again he already knew that that was true about life in general and so he ignored it best he could.

He scuffed his feet to the ground, hesitating for a moment before adding the thing that was really bothering him.

"And what exactly am I gonna say huh? 'Hi honey, nice sleep? By the way you're dead and can we have that body back that you're borrowing please'?"

He shook his head with sigh, truly at a loss. Jess was gone, he'd accepted that a long time ago and he was completely unprepared to have all those feelings dragged up like this again. Not to mention the fact that she was rightly going to be upset and scared and he had to be the one to do that to her. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to deal with that.

Dean it seemed wouldn't be any help either.

"Whatever, man," he replied, brushing off Sam's worries before seeming faintly amused by it all, "I just hope you covered all the mirrors up or she's going to be wondering when she dyed her hair and had facial reconstruction."

He paused momentarily before a flippant smile graced his lips.

"And a boob job."

What Sam needed right now was help and advice from his brother not offhand jokes and stupid comments. His hurt and temper momentarily got the better of him.

"It's not funny Dean!" he snapped back, angry at not only Dean's unhelpful nature but also at the fact that he appeared to be almost laughing at Jess's situation, amused at her expense. She deserved way more respect and sympathy than that.

For the first time since Sam had gotten out there Dean turned to look at him, eyes fierce, finally showing the anger and the worry that this whole thing was leaving him dealing with but which he was hiding behind a hard front.

"'Your dead former girlfriend just hijacked mine, do you see me laughing?" he asked sharply, deadly serious.

Sam backed down. Dean coped with things by making light of them, that was just his way. It was certainly better than him going in there all guns blazing and demanding that she get the hell out of his girlfriend's body. He was being remarkably tolerant given the circumstances and Sam had to be grateful for that. He had to cut him some slack when he said stupid things at least.

"Look," Dean said, calmer than before as he got his feelings back in check, his voice holding a hint of understanding for Sam's situation, "We've gotta to get her out of there, Sam. She doesn't belong here, simple as. It's not right."

Sam nodded, "I know."

"It sucks but that's just the way it's gotta be."

"I know," Sam repeated again, more firmly this time. He didn't need telling any of that. He understood that Jess had to be let go and Izzy restored, of course he did. And he understood that, for the time being at least, Dean had lost someone he loved too. It was a feeling that Sam was all too familiar with.

Yes he had great understanding for the way things had to go down here but it didn't mean he had to feel good about it.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said quietly, "I'll sort this out. I will. Just let me do one thing first..."

"This better not involve nakedness and bodily fluids," Dean joked dryly.

Sam half smiled.

"No. I just want to tell her that's all. I need to tell her everything. Who I am, what we do...I lied to her the whole time I knew her, Dean. I kept such a big part of my life a secret."

It was something that had played on his mind a lot. Should he have told her? He knew it would have been hard, knew that chances were that she never would have believed him, thinking he was either playing some sick game with her or that he'd lost it, but if he could have somehow convinced her would things have been different? Would knowing about demons and the like have given her an opportunity to save her own life that night?

He knew it could obviously make no difference now but it would put his mind more at rest to at least know he had finally stopped lying to her.

"Well to be fair," Dean pointed out, "If you'd told her the truth she would've thought you were a wacko and then she never would have gone out with you."

"Suppose not," Sam agreed with slight laugh.

"But hey," Dean said, shrugging too lightly, "If it makes you feel better there's not much harm in it now is there. She can't exactly walk out on you."

"Dean...come on..." Sam complained, giving him a pained look. He knew Dean meant no harm by it, that his gallows humour was a coping mechanism, but he really didn't need to hear it right now.

Dean shook his head, looking a bit disgusted with himself.

"Dude, seriously just don't listen to me, okay? Don't listen. Just go talk to her. Say what you gotta say."

Sam nodded gratefully, "It won't take long. Things'll be all back to normal by morning, I promise."

"Our lives?" Dean questioned with a raised eyebrow, "Normal?"

"Okay," Sam conceded, "Normal for us."

He had walked just a few paces back towards their room when Dean's voice called him.

"Sammy?"

He turned, seeing Dean looking steadily at him.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

Sam held gaze with him for a long moment, seeing the conflicting emotions in his brother much more clearly now. He felt pity for Sam, understanding how hard this must be for him to face. But it was tainted by more selfish concerns; worry for Izzy, a small underlying fear that this could somehow hurt her or take her from him permanently. It was the first time Sam could see just how much Dean really did love her even if he never properly admitted it.

Sam nodded. He had to be all noble and do the right thing, for Dean's sake if nothing else.

"Thanks."


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

It was near four am when Dean finally sat himself inside the Impala, fatigue making it impossible for him to stand any longer. It was cold too, biting at his flesh even through his jacket and even drinking all the beer hadn't helped warm his blood much. He guessed that was because deep down it wasn't only the chilly night air making him shiver slightly. He supposed he could technically go inside and get his warmer leather jacket but right now he wouldn't step into that room for all the bourbon in Kentucky.

He'd assumed that Sam would come and get him when it was all over and so he'd allowed himself to close his eyes and rest a little even if it was fitful and disturbed sleep. He didn't exactly know how Sam was going to sort it but he'd think of something, he'd look something up and find a way. He was good at stuff like that.

The rational part of Dean's brain kept reminding him that she'd be fine – that people got possessed by far worse than the lost ghost of a young woman and that they came out of it okay. Besides, Izzy was Sam's friend and his brother was way too much of a white heart to let anything happen to her because of what he himself might want.

Even so Dean couldn't banish the niggling doubts from his mind. For some reason just the thought that he didn't have her around, couldn't just go up and hold or kiss her made him extremely edgy. In a way it was kind of disturbing to realise just how dependent upon her presence he'd unknowingly become but right at that moment that was the least of his worries. He just wanted his girl back, that was all.

He was only lightly asleep when Sam knocked on the window and the sudden sound startled him awake. Stretching aching and creaking muscles he opened the door and got out, rolling his stiff neck from side to side to get it moving again as he leant back against the car to take the weight off his tired and leaden legs. He felt pretty much like crap.

"You took your time," he grumbled, any sympathy he had buried beneath a night of worry and exhaustion, "What d'you do – tell her your entire life story? Cause if I was you I would have left out that stuff about losing your trunks at that pool party when you were fifteen."

"We've talked."

Sam's voice was oddly apprehensive and that instantly put Dean on edge.

"And...?" he questioned, frowning deep.

"And she knows about what happened," Sam explained, "She knows that she's not meant to be here."

The slightly defensive tone in Sam's voice would have given him away even if his words hadn't.

"'_She knows_'?" Dean repeated, almost incredulously, "You mean she's still here?"

Sam held his hands up, calm beyond belief, obviously having expected his brother's reaction.

"Look just don't fly off the handle Dean, okay?"

"Don't fly off the-" Dean stopped for moment, attempting to hold in his temper but not quite managing it, "Godamnit Sammy! You said you were gonna sort this out."

Sam shook his head, pretty much ignoring that as though Dean was missing the point somewhere.

"I'm still looking for a way, okay? Just do me a favour and come inside would you," he said as though that was an explanation to everything.

Dean shook his head, firm and almost sullen.

"No, it's okay. I already did you a favour now you go and hold up your end."

He absolutely did not want to see her until she was herself again.

"Seriously," Sam said, his words almost a plea, "I need your help with something."

Then he smiled a little which looked very odd in the circumstances.

"Besides, she wants to meet you."

"Yeah and who says I wanna meet her?" Dean bit back.

"Dean, I'm asking you to do this for me. Please."

Damn pain the ass brother knew he had him there. Stupid puppy dog eyes and pathetic look. It was the same one he used right back when they were kids and he'd wanted ice cream but Dean had said 'no'. Dean had always given in in the end though and this was no exception.

"Fine," he said shortly, making his discomfort about the whole thing very clear, "Anything to get this over with quicker."

Sam said nothing as regards to that, just followed him back to the room.

Dean stopped at the door, apprehensive, really not wanting to go in. Sam gave him a reassuring smile that almost made Dean want to punch him.

Izzy – no, she was still Jessica – was sitting on the bed and she smiled broadly at him when he entered.

"Hey."

Dean's stomach near revolted, clenching hard, telling him if he didn't already know it that this wasn't right. Her smile was all wrong, her voice being used in the wrong way. It made his skin crawl. But he pushed the feelings down for Sam's sake more than anything.

"Hey," he said tightly, not sure what else he could say.

Seemingly sensing the atmosphere she stood, still smiling, holding her hand out to him in gesture he supposed was meant to break the ice. He noticed that the other palm was bandaged, hiding the wound that had allowed her in.

"We never met properly before," she said brightly, "I'm Jess."

Dean stared at the hand but refused to take it, the very idea sending a wave of dread right through him.

The moment was awkward but Jess slowly lowered her borrowed hand, accepting his reaction.

"So," Dean said, calm and emotionless, somehow not wanting to give himself away in front of her, "Sam told you."

"About me being dead?" she asked with brutal honesty, "Yeah."

"And you believed him?"

"No," Jess replied with a hollow laugh, "But then I saw this and well..."

She indicated her new face.

"Look," she continued when Dean was apparently unable to comment further on that, "Sam explained to me who Izzy is. I'm really sorry this had to happen okay?"

"Yeah me too," Dean muttered, not making it clear if he was sorry for Jess or Izzy.

There was silence for a moment and Dean couldn't help but ask something that had been bugging him ever since they'd found themselves in this sorry mess.

"Is Izzy still there? Does she know what's going on?"

In a way he kind of hoped that she didn't, hoped that she was basically asleep or something and that when this was all over she would wake up with no memory of what had happened. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to be trapped inside your own body whilst someone else took control. A little part of him however was oddly comforted by the idea that she may still be in there in some way though even if that was selfish and not really in her best interests.

Jess looked thoughtful for a moment and then she nodded, "Yes, I thinks she is."

"Great," Dean said casually, making light of the situation to hide his conflicting emotions, "Can you ask her if she's seen my lock pick? I mean I thought I put it in my jacket pocket but it's not there and I checked in my bag and...well you know what it's like when you lose something, it's always the last damn place you look and-"

"I think she's laughing at you", Jess interrupted with a smile.

Dean smiled a little too although it was weary and a bit grim.

"That's my girl."

"Look, Dean," Sam said, seeing the perfect opportunity to bring up an issue whilst Dean seemed a little more comfortable about things at least, "Jess and I have something to ask of you."

_'__Jess and I__'_? He was talking like they were a damn couple and it creeped him out.

Dean saw how they both looked at him though and instantly knew what that favour was going to be.

"No," was his firm and instinctive reply. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to enforce that – he didn't think he'd quite reached the stage yet of punching Sam out, tying Jess down and performing an exorcism. He didn't exactly want to deal with the aftermath of doing something like that either but surely they had to understand how he felt about this. He couldn't believe that they'd even have the balls to ask him.

"Just twenty four hours," Sam said hurriedly, "That's all we're asking for."

"This ain't a car or laptop or something we're talking about here, Sammy," he replied tightly, "You can't just borrow someone's body for a day. That's not how it works."

"Not normal no, but these aren't normal circumstances," Sam reasoned, "Besides, Izzy's fine with it."

Dean paused a moment, looking puzzled, a bit thrown by that.

"She is?" he questioned, genuinely taken aback by the idea. He knew that in her situation he wouldn't be fine with the suggestion at all.

"Yes," Jess piped up, "She understands."

"Well that's nice for her," Dean spat back, "But the answer's still 'no'."

He didn't care what she thought, this wasn't good for her. Or him. Besides, how did they know that that was what she really wanted? They only had Jess's word to go on and since the alternative for her was re-death then it hardly seemed unlikely that she might lie in order to stick around a little longer. Sam wasn't exactly the most unbiased opinion either.

"Dean," Sam said softly, coming to stand right in front of his brother, giving Dean's gaze no place to look but at him, "We just want one day, that's all, just a chance to say goodbye. Is that too much to ask? Izzy won't be hurt and by this time tomorrow everything will be back to normal."

Yeah and that's what he'd said about that morning too.

But Dean couldn't ignore the look on Sam's face nor the pleading in his eyes. He knew his brother was hurting, knew that this was hard on him. He couldn't ignore that even if he wanted to. Maybe if this helped ease that pain a little it would be worth it. He and Izzy had the rest of their lives if they so wished. All Sam was asking for was a day. And maybe Izzy really was okay with it. She cared about Sam. It wasn't beyond reason to think that she'd be willing to do this for him.

"Fine," he eventually agreed with a huff that he hoped showed them that he was doing this under duress, "Twenty four hours, that's all."

"Thanks man," Sam muttered gratefully, patting him on the shoulder.

Jess grinned widely and hurried up to them. Caught in the moment she went to kiss Dean on the cheek in thanks but he backed up sharply like she was holding a hot poker to his face.

"Sorry," she whispered, looking suitably embarrassed at her momentary lack of thought.

Dean recovered himself well.

"Just one proviso," he said, pointing a finger at Sam, "That body is just a loan and you do not lay so much as a finger on it, understand? That is not your girlfriend."

"Dean..." Sam said, his face screwing up at the idea. Like he would even consider it.

"Swear," Dean ordered, being more protective than distrusting.

"Scout's honour," Sam said with a small smile, "I'll treat her like a little sister. Who's a nun."

"We don't have a little sister, you weren't a Scout and nun's freak you out."

"It's the thought that counts."


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven**

The trouble with being in an area almost entirely existing of students was that it was pretty much impossible to find anywhere to eat that wasn't a fast food joint. Sam had tried in vain to find a nice restaurant to take her to, wanting to do things properly and make this as damn near perfect as it could get, but in the end they'd settled for a burger joint and Jess didn't seem to mind that much. He guessed that she was just glad to be going anywhere considering.

They'd been out for about an hour and Jess had just popped to the bathroom when he tried to phone Dean. Sam did feel guilty, no doubt about that and he could totally understand why Dean was having such a hard time with this. He just wanted to tell his brother how much this meant to him, how grateful he was and how much he appreciated it. He really did have to pay Dean back somehow in the future – maybe he'd fake some passes and sneak them into a Metallica concert or something. And Izzy too. He owed her big time for this.

Dean didn't answer his phone. Sam didn't exactly know where he was, only that he'd left the motel room soon after agreeing to their proposal and had just waved his hand at Sam, brushing him off when he'd asked where Dean was going. In all likelihood he'd probably headed to the nearest bar. The thought of Dean sitting there drinking alone with worries playing on his mind momentarily made Sam feel like crap but that soon faded when Jess returned. He had to concentrate on the here and now. They weren't going to get anything else and he could apologise to Dean again later.

After a while Sam found it easy to see Jess in the form in front of him. Okay so she didn't look right but the words she spoke and the way she acted was so definitely her. She was bubbly, a bit more girlie than Izzy and that made it easier to see the difference. She even smiled the same way she used to and he could hear her laugh, buried in Izzy's different accent nonetheless. It made it all very easy to forget what Izzy was usually like.

He didn't find it so easy to forget the circumstances of this semi date though and the fact that every moment gone was another they were never going to get back. Of course, he reasoned, life was always that way, clocking ticking down towards the finale. But when you had a very definite end in sight it became all the more apparent. He supposed that this must be what it was like for someone with a terminal illness or something, knowing that soon they wouldn't be around anymore. And he was like the relative, trying to make the most of the time left, trying not to think about what was to come because it seemed to cut a part of his gut clean out. He remembered briefly feeling like this before when Dean had been electrocuted and had not been given long to live. But back then Sam had had focus, he'd had the goal of trying to save his brother to cling to. But there was no saving Jessica. At least not in the way he would really like. All he could do is help her move on and hope she really was going to a better place.

Realising that he didn't want to spend their day together feeling sad about the fact that they only had that one day, he pushed all the more melancholy thoughts firmly to the back of his mind and for once totally concentrated on the here and now. Not where they were heading to next, what they might be facing, how they might kill it and all the normal things he had to plan for in his everyday life. No, it was just about the moment and that was almost refreshing in a way.

Walking through the park on a surprisingly warm spring day he could almost believe that this was all completely normal.

They passed some odd modern art sculptures as they walked and he couldn't fail to notice how Jess checked out her reflection in their shiny surfaces.

"Hey, you want an ice cream?" he asked, trying to distract her, trying to keep the illusion of normality going just a little while longer.

She smiled at him

"I probably shouldn't. I don't want to make her fat."

Sam laughed a little.

"Based on some of the junk she normally eats I don't think that's possible."

He briefly wondered if Izzy had heard that. If she was laughing too. But he pushed it away. Now was not the time to be thinking about her. Truth was he didn't like to think that she was still in there at all, watching this all unfold in front of her like some sort of bizarre TV show that she couldn't turn off. He didn't like to think that this last goodbye with Jessica was being watched by anyone. It made it all too weird even for him.

Minutes later, sitting under a tree with ice creams in hand, he watched as Jess distractedly checked out strands of Izzy's hair.

"You know, I always did imagine what I'd be like as a brunette," she joked, trying to make light of the situation.

They sat there and talked, pleasant and sweet. For all the world they were just a normal guy and his girlfriend spending a nice afternoon together.

He watched as she licked dripped ice cream off of the back of her hand and then laughed as she accidently poked herself in the cheek with the rest of the rapidly melting mess in the process.

"It's not funny," she protested, trying to wipe her cheek clean, missing the same bit every time.

He knew he shouldn't do it but his hand reached up anyway.

"Here, let me," he said, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. Even his touch lied to him; skin was just skin after all, it said. It was what was inside that counted.

When she kissed him though, lips brushing against his, the illusion he'd been living in all day was well and truly shattered. He tried almost desperately to ignore it, tried to just close his eyes and go with the moment as he ran his hands gently through her hair and his tongue softly through her mouth. But it was all so sickeningly wrong. He almost expected Izzy's subconscious to battle its way through for a moment just so she could slap him.

It didn't help that his promise to Dean about not laying a finger on her also came sharply to mind.

He frowned deeply as she pulled away, the slow dawn of realisation breaking through the happy fog his brain had slipped into. Jess saw the look on his face, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry," he said with a soft, regretful sigh.

He was. Sorry that it wasn't her, sorry that he couldn't pretend as she no doubt at least partly wished. But the lips beneath his had felt all wrong. He remembered how they sweetly kissed his cheek once, a kiss of friendship, not love. They weren't his to kiss in that way. He couldn't help baulk at how wrong it felt to feel those fingers momentarily entangling in his hair in longing rather than with their usual ruffle of affection. He was betraying his brother and his friend by even momentarily contemplating not doing the right thing.

"It just feels wrong," he explained when she continued to look at him, "I know it's you in there but...That body...it's all wrong."

Jessica's laugh was odd and false. Maybe she had hoped she could convince him and was disappointed. He couldn't really blame her for trying. Wasn't that one of humanity's most resilient traits – the desire to cling to life?

"I didn't have you pegged as the shallow type, Sam," she said, only half joking.

Sam was all seriousness however knowing that it wasn't the time to lighten the mood even if it was hard to talk about. He had to make her see there was only one way that this was ever going to go. He didn't want to give her false hope.

"I'm not," he said softly, "You know I'm not. But...You're gone, Jess. You should be gone. Dean's right; what's dead should stay dead. This is just...unnatural. I wished to god it had never happened. I wish at least you could have just moved on like you should have done so you didn't have to go through this, but this can't be a solution. You can't stay."

It pained him to say it but there it was, the undeniable truth of the matter that he had been trying all day to avoid confirming. She never should have come back in the first place and allowing her to stay any longer than necessary was in essence an affront to nature. The universe had its own order and way of things and messing with that never ended well.

To his surprise she didn't get upset at that, didn't get angry with him or try to protest her right to live.

"Close your eyes," she whispered quietly.

"Jess..."

"Close your eyes."

Despite his apprehension he did as he was asked, unable to refuse her anything. Well, almost anything at least.

"Can you hear me?"

He frowned a little at that slightly odd question.

"Yeah..."

"No, I mean can you hear _me_. I know the accent's all wrong but the words are there. You hear Jessica right?"

She took his silence as an affirmation.

"That's because it is me, Sam," she pointed out, an edge of pleading in her voice, "I know I don't look right but I'm not gone, I'm right here still."

Slowly he opened his eyes, shaking his head.

"I can't spend the rest of my life not looking at you and when I look at you I see her," he reasoned calmly, "Besides, I can't do this to Dean. Or Izzy. It's not fair on them."

"I know and I understand that, of course I do. I'm not asking you to. But there has to be another way," she suggested, "You can't just give up on me, Sam. You said you've been doing this kind of stuff all your life. You've got to know something. Can't you bring me back properly?"

Again, he didn't really blame her for asking but she really was clutching at straws.

"There's nothing to bring back, Jess," he said with a shake of his head, "Your body's gone."

"Well can't I just go into someone else?" she said with a shrug.

He wondered how much thought she'd put into that. He understood there must be an air of desperation to her words but that was a bit much.

"Like who?" he asked, slightly disturbed by her thinking and frustrated by that fact that there really was nothing he could do. He wished she'd just accept this, it would make so much easier on him. But Jess always had been a fighter.

"You can't ask someone to give up their life, Jess," he continued, "And you certainly just can't take it."

"Oh I see," she said bitterly, averting her eyes from him, "So it's not just your brother and his girlfriend that you prioritise over me, it's everyone..."

"Jess that's not fair..."

She sighed regretfully and when she looked up at him and saw the stung hurt on his face she was instantly apologetic.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just not ready to go. Not yet. I need some time."

Sam couldn't help but get the slightest feeling that she was playing him, knowing what buttons to press and exactly what to say. But he couldn't ignore it either way. Jess had had her life stolen from her. She was only twenty one, beautiful girl with a bright future. Now that would never be and all because she had met him. Surely he owed her something at least? And what difference would another day or two really make? Izzy wasn't going to get hurt and Dean may be a bit pissed but he'd get over it.

"I know," he said soothingly, resting his hand on hers, "And that's okay. Take as long as you need."

"But what about Dean?"

"We'll talk to him."

"You'll talk to him," she corrected, "I think he'd do just about anything for you."


End file.
